Usually by the end of band tours, I start to anticipate coming home, but this time, I wanted anything but that. It was my last trip, and I didn't want to let go of it all. This trip was both so vibrant and calming all in one, and it didn't meet any of my expectations, in the best sense of the phrase. I've been on this trip before, and I thought I had it all down pat, but I was surprised countlessly. I didn't really spend time with my usuals, but I was constantly reminded that although the world always holds something new for me, I will always have something to fall back on. At the same time, there the usuals did happen: bus jam sessions, crowding in rooms, being a little weird, loitering, match-making, running in halls and the obvious bonding. People were pushed together in a random mesh of things, and it gave us the chance to act a little crazy and drive each other a little crazy. There's so many memories I could recollect, because the days went on forever but fast.
I don't even know where to begin to list off the reasons why I love trips like these, but a huge part of this is being surrounded by people who are passionate. It makes people attractive. Not just the girls-swooning-over-boys-who-serenade kind of attractive, but the kind that's almost divine. It's not merely because of skill or talent, but there's a glow to a person who does what they're made for - whether it's plucking at a guitar, being a friend, or scribbling in a journal. It's when their eyes are closed, doing their thing, and they're deep within themselves. It's that steadiness that draws others in. Not only did I get to see others lighten up all trip, but I got to see them at their prime. And it was so satisfying hearing the repertoire fill the bus, even though 1-5-6-4s are so fun, because it's proof that this was what we were there for. It's in us, even when it doesn't have to be, and we do it because we want to, which is a rarity.
How we lived our lives was incredible. We breathed music, soaked up the Californian sun, and buried ourselves in sand. It was almost unrealistic, but it was so hard to contain myself, because, all drama aside, it was essentially paradise. I mean, I spent my mornings journaling to the sound of crashing waves, my afternoons making my own adventures (I discovered my inner tourist) and my nights around a bonfire. All we did was kick back, throw up deuces and play a couple tunes way too loud and way too fast.
By the end of it all, I made a few new friends, drew closer to many and complained to Caleb the whole drive back about how I wanted to stay in California forever. We had a huge group devotion on the last night, and amongst the humidity and sweaty bodies, I felt a sense of connection that I wanted to cling onto. I barely felt a loss for words for anyone, because it had been anything but mediocre. I told Sam that my cheeks hurt from smiling too much, and rightly so because a) it makes sense, because I got nominated for most obnoxious laugh (I should have won... I'm not bitter at all) and b) I was in a feel-good mood for the whole week, even through the sickness and the "I DON'T UNDERSTAND ENGLISH LIT." I can only pray that it will all carry on, and with grad looming ahead, that it won't be temporary.
And now I sit here, with a clogged up sinus, wishing for weather suitable for shorts instead of the rain, feeling a bit lonely and missing everyone a bit too much. But I will end with this and a few pictures: Kids are crazy, because they believe they can do anything. I've missed that about myself.
No comments:
Post a Comment